Summer Rain
by LucyEverdeen28
Summary: While visiting the Kirkes, Polly gets into a fight with Digory, and soon enough the two are refusing to forgive each other.  It's up to Mrs. Kirke to play matchmaker and put the pieces back together.  Will she ever succeed?
1. Chapter 1

**First off, yes, the title for this fanfic was inspired by Hayley Westenra's song "Summer Rain." I was listening to it last week and couldn't help thinking how it suited the fanfic I was writing! It's a great song. :)**

**Second…wow. I never thought I would write a fanfic about Digory and Polly. I always liked other characters better, such as Eustace and Jill, and Cor and Aravis. But I was rereading the Magician's Nephew the other day, and something stuck out about Digory and Polly––they were such opposites, but they were the greatest of friends. So I started to write a little oneshot, but now it's turning out to be a multi-chapter fanfic. And just so we're all on the same track, Digory is seventeen in this fanfic, and Polly has recently turned sixteen. Anyway…here is the first chapter, and I hope you enjoy.**

Something in the air was different.

Polly could feel it. From the second she'd followed Digory outside, it had felt different. Maybe it was the taste of the cool air upon her tongue, or the slapping touch of the tall grass blades that scratched her skin. Or maybe it was the unspoken tension between her and Digory.

It was late June. Polly had gone to stay with her friends for the summer, following her usual routine. She'd arrived just a few days ago. Usually, she and Digory would rush off to explore the woods or fish by the creek. So far, they'd sat around idly, talking and playing chess. It was like there was this space between them, but Polly wasn't sure what it was. She liked Digory a good deal and wanted to regain the closeness of their former friendship––and maybe a little more.

The morning had started when Digory suggested they take a walk before breakfast. It was cool outside, cool and misty. Fog scampered around Polly's skirt as she picked her way through the moist grass.

"Your mother's watching us," Polly observed, not knowing what else to say. They were upon the edge of the yard now, still in sight of the looming Kirke house. Mrs. Kirke peered out from behind a curtain from a second-story window. Her vague shadow clung to the glass, making Polly wonder what she was doing.

Digory turned his head just slightly to see that it was true. "Of course she is. She thinks we fancy each other." He laughed as if to say how ridiculous it was.

Polly felt her face darken, and words seeped out of her before she could control them. "You think it's nonsense, of course."

"I jolly well do, you silly girl! I told Mother that we were friends and nothing more."

Frustration ran through Polly's bones. "When are you going to grow up, Digory?"

"Grow up! Whatever do you mean?"

"I'm a _girl. _What's it going to take for you to realize that? We're both getting older. Someday we won't want to run through the woods and pull up weeds for fun and dunk each other in mud balls."

She watched as Digory's face fell and he spoke with a kind of franticness. "You mean you don't want to come here each summer? All you care about now is jewelry and fancy dresses and perfume and all that rot about people getting engaged? That's _mean, _Polly."

"That's not what I mean," she said hurriedly. "I do like nice things––being dressed up all nice and feeling pretty, and wearing jewelry and going to parties and events. I enjoy it. But––Digory––you don't understand. We've been the best of friends. And now we're both almost adults, and––Digory––sometimes feelings change as we grow older––" She broke off abruptly, shocked at all the talking they'd just done. She needed to be careful what she said!

"I knew it! You don't want to come visit me anymore. You want to do your own thing. I do wish you'd said so in the first place."

"Oh, shut up and stop interrupting! You don't have a clue, do you? That's not what I'm trying to say. Of course not." Polly stumbled for the right words.

"Then what? For heaven's sake, just say what you mean!"

Polly groaned and put her face into her hands. "Oh. Oh, goodness. I don't even know how to put it into words."

"I'm lost, Polly. If you're done, then I'm going to head inside."

"No, don't!" Polly grabbed Digory's arm and pulled him towards her. He drew up, surprise in his eyes. Polly leaned forward and kissed him––a shy, tender kiss on the lips. It lasted for a few seconds before she drew away, feeling blissfully happy but like a fool.

Digory stood motionless, his mouth forming the word, "What?"

She took another step back, blushing. "Silly boy," she muttered. "You never were good with seeing through a girl's words, were you? Always have to have it straight-out and simple."

Digory rubbed his neck, eyes wide and jaw still open, and finally choked out another sentence. "What'd you do that for?"

"Because, I happen to '_fancy_' you, as your mum says. Don't stare so. It's hard enough for _me_ to believe such a thing could happen." Despite her sharp words, Polly found herself withdrawing and wrapping her arms around her body. Was Digory mad at her for being so forward? Before, he'd always appreciated her plain way of seeing things.

He continued to stare, as if in disbelief. His brow crinkled as he gave a little half-shake of his head.

"Oh, so you don't like me then! Well have it your way!" Polly veered sharply and stormed her way through the thick grass. Tall blades slapped against her legs as she stomped into the Kirke mansion and fled down the hallway towards her room. A few stray water droplets trickled off the edge of her skirt––melting remnants of the morning mist that had enshrouded them. Her head started to ache.

"Polly."

Mrs. Kirke was suddenly standing there, a sweet smile trailing across her face. "You're in early, dear."

Not caring for small talk, Polly cut straight to the point. "You were watching from the window," she said accusingly before she let her voice soften. She had to ask, she must know. "Did you see?"

The older woman's eyes twinkled, the only outward sign of her pleasure. "It was very daring of you."

"Doesn't matter now anyway," Polly grumbled. Why had she been so quick to take action, to kiss him? She'd spoiled everything in a single moment, without thinking at all. "He doesn't care for me in such a way."

"Digory?" Surprise flashed in Mrs. Kirke's eyes. "Don't judge so quickly. I think you'll find he does."

"Maybe he does, but he's too stupid to realize it." Polly, so caught up in her misery, didn't even have time to regret her harsh words spoken in the presence of her hostess.

"If he's so stupid, then why do you love him?" Mrs. Kirke pushed a mug of simmering hot cocoa into the distraught girl's hands. Polly hadn't even noticed her holding it earlier, but she was thankful and took a long sip.

"He's _Digory_," was the first thing she said once she'd downed a satisfactory amount of the warm drink. "He's practical and supportive even when I'm being an idiot or trying to get my own way. We've been friends as long as I can remember and we've put such an amount of trust in each other. We're complete opposites and we argue often, but it doesn't matter because the next day we've forgiven each other and drawn closer and become the best of friends. I don't understand it––we're so different and we hit each other's nerves so often––but I can't help being in love with him."

During her entire speech, Mrs. Kirke had been smiling, but now understanding flowed from her eyes at this last sentence. "That's what love is, Polly."

"That's the way it was for you and Mr. Kirke?" Polly drew back apologetically when she realized she was asking a personal question. Curse her flying tongue! She recalled, too, that her defense of Digory sounded suspiciously like what one of her love-struck classmates would swoon over back in London.

The lady laughed. "Not exactly like that, but yes––yes. It was always a mystery to me how the two of us came to be together."

"So you think Digory's feelings will change?"

"In time, I know they will. He thinks highly of you, and he's never made that a secret."

"Highly!" she muttered. "A friend. A _playmate, _that's all he considers me. But that's not the worst part."

"What is, then?"

"He's been my best friend for so long," Polly confessed miserably. "I've longed to be more than a 'best friend' for ever so long, but just being friends brings me the greatest joy in the world. And now––I've been such a fool––and after that stupid little kiss––why, now we'll never be able to go back to the friendship we used to have!"

"I think you're imagining the worst, Polly," Mrs. Kirke said mildly.

"No: it's plain truth, that's all. We'll never be able to go back to that trusting friendship. All because I ruined it with a kiss, thinking that he returned my feelings!" And here Polly, becoming too worked up to control herself, flung herself into Mrs. Kirke's arms and sobbed, heedless of the cocoa that she had sent flying to the floor.

Now, truth be told, Mrs. Kirke very much did wish for her son to fall in love with Polly. She was not the kind of woman who would try to interfere with such personal matters and take charge her own way, but she did believe that if she pressed here and there a little, she might be able to assist in helping her son see the best way. So it was that she helped Polly up to her room, brought another cup of cocoa, and suggested that the girl should rest for a bit.

Polly protested at first, but when Mrs. Kirke insisted firmly, she drank the cocoa and snuggled under the covers, saying that she did feel slightly chilled from being outside and that perhaps sleep would do her good after all. Once this was done, Mrs. Kirke marched through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the library. Digory was there, studying a science book. She took a deep breath. She had to confront her son.

**Please review; I would appreciate any comments or constructive criticism to help me improve my writing. Hopefully the next chapter will be up in about a week.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, here's the next chapter. I'm doing my best to keep everyone in character, especially Mrs. Kirke since the book doesn't talk a lot about her. So please tell me if there's anything I should adjust or change.**

"How long have you been inside?" Mrs. Kirke asked. She took a few swift steps into the library and stared at her son.

"Don't know," Digory said rather rudely, for he knew his mother's thoughts and did not want her trying to cut in. He turned back to the science book.

Mrs. Kirke would never give up so easily. She had to get to the point, and now. "Why did you treat Polly so? Why did you hurt her? Couldn't you have smiled and been a little more encouraging?"

"I'm being sensible, Mother!" Digory shut the book, his brow contorted. "Don't you see? I aim to become a professor someday. A professor, not a lovesick fool. Polly's a brick––she's wonderful, and smart, and clever, but the notion of me being in love with her is ridiculous."

"It is not!" said Mrs. Kirke in astonishment. "Why, it's perfectly natural."

"We've had mud ball fights together, we've explored the woods and caves and all sorts of places. She's a pal. I don't think of her as a girl. And as I was trying to say, it wouldn't be sensible for us to be together in the first place. I'll be off to college in a year or two. I won't have time for girls––not Polly, not any other girl."

Mrs. Kirke settled herself into a seat across from Digory. Outside, she could hear rain starting to drizzle down. The soft pit-pat on the roof did nothing to calm her. "Digory," she said, struggling not to show her anger, "please think this through. Your father and I would approve of you and Polly being together, very much so. You would still see her on breaks from college. It's not like you would have to devote your life to studying." Frantic for him to pay attention, she placed her hand over his.

Digory drew his hand away. "Mother, listen. I'm never going to think of Polly in the way that you want me to; and that's final. Now, where has the silly girl got to anyway?" Standing up, he pushed his chair in with a thud and slid the thick science book into a bookshelf.

"Up in bed. She mentioned feeling rather tired." Knowing that she was losing this verbal battle, Mrs. Kirke wearily relented, but not before resolving to fight more next time. She switched to another subject. "I do hope it wasn't raining when the two of you were outside; it could have given her a cold."

"There was a jolly good deal of fog and mist floating about, but the rain hadn't started then."

"Next time don't go out so early. Wait until the sun shows its face and it brightens up."

Digory's jaw firmed. "I'm seventeen." Those were the only words it took to remind his mother. He was almost an adult; he could take care of himself.

Mrs. Kirke winced. "I know, dear, I know." Pushing her chair in, she rubbed her temples and strode out of the library without a backward glance. As she stepped across the threshold, thunder shook the mansion.

Her hands were shaky as she ascended the staircase. This summer was going to be different than the other summers that Polly had stayed with them. Digory and Polly had grown up this year and changed quite a bit. Oh, but they were still stubborn, for Digory would not examine his feelings, and Polly was regretting and resenting hers.

She wondered how long the tension would last.

Meanwhile, Polly was snuggled up in bed feeling worse by the second. Chilly wet weather had never bothered her before, but after ten minutes' time in the grassy damp yard, she'd managed to catch a cold. Already her throat was sore and she'd been coughing harshly several times.

"This would be my luck," she mumbled to herself hoarsely as she wiggled about, trying to find a comfortable spot on the pillow. Here she was, at the home of her best friend for the entire summer, the place she'd constantly been thinking about during the school year. And now, even though she had remained completely healthy during the school year, she'd gotten sick during her special summer break.

A soft tapping sounded on the door, and Mrs. Kirke slipped in. "Hello, Polly. How do you feel? It's time for lunch."

"I don't think I should get out of bed," Polly admitted, and explained to her worried hostess that she had taken ill. Mrs. Kirke felt her forehead and agreed that she did feel rather warm.

"Where do you not feel good?" she asked gently.

"My throat's sore. I've been coughing and my nose is running, too." Polly grimaced in an apologetic manner.

Mrs. Kirke eyed the weary-looking girl. "Your nose is running? Now tell me honestly, would that be from congestion or from the tears you shed?"

Polly looked up indignantly, a bit of her old fire returning. "Excuse me, Mrs. Kirke, but I haven't been crying over Digory. The only tears I cried were the ones you witnessed when you helped me to my room. I'll admit that I've been moping a bit in here, but I haven't let myself cry again. I despise crybabies."

Mrs. Kirke chuckled, half in disbelief and half in amusement. She recalled that, over the years, Polly had always been that strong, determined type. "Then I suppose I will accept a cold as your excuse." She opened a drawer in the nightstand and handed Polly a handkerchief.

"But it's not an excuse!" Polly blew her nose. "I don't know how it happened. I've never gotten sick so quickly. We Plummers have always had strong constitutions––"

"Hush, dear." Mrs. Kirke tapped the edge of the bed sheet. "You need to rest. I'll bring up some broth for you, and some more cocoa, perhaps. That ought to help you improve."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kirke." Polly twisted the handkerchief, a fierce glint in her eyes. "And please, don't tell Digory of our earlier conversation. The one about me being in love with him."

"As you wish, but why ever not?"

"Oh, I don't love him anymore," Polly said, very frankly and calmly. "That's all. I don't know why I ever liked him in the first place. He's just a boy with a head full of silly ideas. So none of it really matters, not now. Why, now I just need to focus on getting well again."

Mrs. Kirke said nothing. The first thing she thought was that young people were so apt to change their minds in the twitch of an eye. The second was that Polly was incredibly stubborn if she was now denying her affection for Digory. The third was a feeling of sorrow for Polly, that the girl was attempting to brush off the earlier incident and pretend that she scoffed at Digory.

Oh, yes, the older woman thought as she nodded and quietly departed. No more was Polly heartbroken and devastated. Digory was her enemy now. She hadn't said so out right, but it was as clear as a mirror's reflection. Something big was going to happen between Polly and Digory soon. Mrs. Kirke had been fervently hoping that their relationship would someday be repaired, but now she was starting to feel discouraged.

**Please leave a review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the third chapter! Please review. I'd really like to know how I'm doing and what areas I should try to improve in.**

The days passed dangerously slowly. Polly remained in bed for the whole of five days, complaining of chills and a sore throat. Mrs. Kirke hoped desperately that she would get better before they had to write to her parents of her illness. Digory spent most of his time in the library, engrossed in his studies. He had always been a very serious, thoughtful sort of boy who not only contemplated the ways of life but reveled in life itself. Now, he seemed quiet and drawn into himself. Whenever Mrs. Kirke looked at him, his brow was furrowed and his lips in a tight line, as if he had a constant headache.

It was odd. There were times when she thought the two dear children that she'd known for so long were maturing and learning wisdom, and then they would step right back and fuss like toddlers.

Mrs. Kirke especially noticed the constant switching back and forth during those few days. Polly would act all grown-up and calm, like she could deal with what was happening around her, and then she would start whining and refusing to act sensible. Digory would study diligently, and then he would fuss about wanting to be left alone and not wanting to spend time with his family.

Polly, however, was unaware that Mrs. Kirke was worrying so much about her. She would burrow herself under her blankets and pillows and try to think of other things to keep her mind off her sore throat. She told herself over and over that Digory didn't matter anymore, that as soon as she was well she would be heading home. She told herself that their friendship was over, that as soon as she was gone they would forget all about each other and that stupid kiss. Digory could devote his life to studies, and she could go––well, go to parties and shop and wear makeup and find some other boy, or whatever it was that girls were supposed to do.

She made herself miserable thinking these thoughts, though she hardly realized it through the dim fog that clogged her mind. She became so worked up that she vowed that once she got out of bed, she would never speak to Digory again.

Someone knocked on her door rather loudly and entered. Polly hid her head under her pillow, neither caring nor wanting to know. When a familiar voice cackled, she lifted her head and moaned. "Uncle Andrew, could you leave? I don't feel good."

Uncle Andrew had been staying with the Kirkes for a few years now. Mr. Kirke had done so to try to lift the burden off Leticia Ketterley's shoulders––not that she was that grateful. Uncle Andrew had never fully recovered from his brief stay in Narnia and was now what Mrs. Kirke called confused. Polly preferred to simply think of him as crazy. He never seemed to make sense.

"Heard that you and Digory boy had a lovers' quarrel." Uncle Andrew giggled as if it were the funniest thing, rubbing his hands together.

"Why, you!" Polly said, horrified. "Well, you heard wrong. Go away. I'm sick and it hurts my throat to talk."

"Why is the little girl sick?"

"From being outside! I caught a cold! Now leave."

Uncle Andrew continued to rub his hands together distractedly. "Now, that Digory boy. He's a fool. Head stuffed with nonsense, thinks he can become a professor. Thinks he can immerse himself in his studies when he's troubled. He don't know anything."

"Now there's something we can finally agree on."

"He don't like you at all, no, not at all. Heard him say so myself." He muttered a repeated version of what he'd just said before continuing. "Thinks you were just a friend. Doesn't have time for girls. Cares about college."

"So he is going to college."

"Yesss, that's right. College…hm…"

"If that's all, perhaps you could go away?" Polly was teetering on the brink of rudeness. Uncle Andrew, as everyone called him whether they were family or friend, was getting on her nerves. Did he make it a habit to listen in on all the conversations taking place?

Mrs. Kirke burst into the room, relief showing in her face. "Oh, there you are, Uncle Andrew. It's time to go now. Polly needs to be left alone."

Polly mouthed, "Thanks" before slipping back under the covers. But it was not long before Mrs. Kirke returned, this time without Uncle Andrew.

"What are you going to do with yourself, Polly?"

"Once I'm well enough to get out of bed, I suppose I'll do puzzles and sketch and write poems to entertain myself. When I'm completely well, I'll be going straight home."

"That's not exactly what I meant, but I guess it'll work." She paused for emphasis. "But what will you do at home?"

"Well…" Polly floundered. She waved a hand airily, but it did not hide the anxiety etched across her brow. "Sew hats and knit dresses and cook apples and all that fancy sort of stuff that ladies do. You should know, you're a lady yourself!"

"_Polly_. Don't brush me off in such a way; I know you better than that. And for one thing, you don't exactly knit dresses. Neither do you cook apples. They grow from trees, you know."

"I _know _they come from trees!" Polly's face was like thunder. "I only meant because there's so many ways to cook them. Like to make apple dumplings or applesauce or apple pie."

"My point still stands. You'll be bored to death if you try to enter such a life. What's reallyin your future? What would you really like to do? For a career, that is."

Polly's face transformed from sulky to faraway. "I would love to write, you know. But it's hard enough for female writers to get published. And Digory is NOTin my dream future, in case you were wondering." The wary frown returned.

"I wasn't, actually."

"Then why'd you ask as if you wanted to hear me say so?"

"I did no such thing, dear. I was asking about your career, if you'll remember. You were the one who volunteered your opinion of my son. Anyway, you were saying about writing. You write poems and short stories, don't you?"

"Yes. I've tried to write a novel, but I got bored with my characters and killed them off after a while. So I mainly stick with poems and short stories."

"Oh." Mrs. Kirke grimaced before returning to her subject. "But you haven't gone to college. You have no type of formal education relating to writing. You've never been published. How do you intend to pursue this career?"

Polly pounded her anguish out on her pillow. "Are you trying to break apart my dream? Are you pointing out all the flaws on purpose? Just to try to say that I should have stuck by Digory so I could have an easier life? He doesn't _like _me, okay! There's nothing I could do about it! Now stop trying to discourage me!"

"For someone with a sore throat, you're strangely talkative."

"I thought you were a compassionate person, Mrs. Kirke."

"I am, Polly. Or at least I try to be. And I'm not trying to talk down on your dream, I'm just trying to see what your plans are. I would like to be of help to you. I'd like you to still consider me your friend."

Polly was silent for a second. "You are my friend. You've done so much for me, how could you not be my friend? It's just that I need to be in the surroundings of my home."

"I think I understand."

"I think you do, too. And please don't think I'm a whiny little brat who always gets her way. I'm not trying to complain and act negatively towards everyone, and I really can be bright and sunny, when things are going right, that is."

"But that's the challenge of who we are. That's part of learning. We have to keep a good attitude even when circumstances aren't the best." Mrs. Kirke gave Polly a moment for that to sink in, but the girl didn't say anything. "Now back to your writing career, Polly. I was going to say, I have a friend who is both a professor and an editor for magazines. I could send him a sample of your work."

"Could you?" Polly cheered up.

"But," Mrs. Kirke continued warningly before the girl got too excited, "that means you would have to reside at our house temporarily, if he likes your work. I know you wouldn't be thrilled about seeing Digory, but…well, I'm sure your angry feelings will calm with time. But the professor lives near us, so you would have to stay with us."

Polly only hesitated for a few seconds. "Okay, I'll do it. After all, my career is jolly well more important than my non-existent love life."

"That's the spirit." Mrs. Kirke couldn't help chuckling. She reached over and smoothed Polly's hair from her face. "I'll check on you in a few hours, dear. Please try to get some rest."

But Polly didn't sleep for quite some time. She lay in bed thinking. Mrs. Kirke had just helped her along in her career and future. But nothing good came without a catch. Polly felt depression slide over her at the thought that, if she wanted to pursue a writing career, she would have to stay at the Kirke house and run the chance of seeing Digory quite often.

She tried to comfort herself. Digory would hopefully be away at college during that time, so she wouldn't be assaulted with bad memories. But fear gripped her. No matter how hard she tried to run away, it seemed she couldn't escape the mounting tension.

Meanwhile Mrs. Kirke paced the hallway, a pleased smile on her lips. She truly did want the best for Polly––but the best part was, she'd succeeded not only in perhaps securing Polly's future, but also keeping the girl in their house. Surely if Digory continued to see more of her, his icy attitude would melt away and he'd go back to being friends.

So far her plan was working.

**Tell me if anyone is acting out of character…especially Uncle Andrew, I wasn't exactly sure how he would behave, but I do intend to put him in the story a little more. Hope you enjoyed it, I'll probably have the next chapter up in a week.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm about halfway through the story now, so there should be at least several more chapters. **

Polly's health started improving no less than a week later. Mrs. Kirke was relieved. She would have hated for Polly to be seriously ill during her visit. She checked in on Polly the next morning and asked the girl to dine with the family for lunch tomorrow. "Surely you're well enough to stop taking meals in bed now."

"Yes," Polly agreed. "My throat is much better. It barely hurts at all. Yes, of course I'll be down for lunch tomorrow."

The next day Polly put on her usual top and skirt. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she brushed out her long brown hair and put on the emerald necklace her mother had given her. She noticed her face was much paler and her eyes seemed…well, bigger or wider somehow. "I guess being sick really took the energy out of me," she muttered, smoothing out her sweater.

Lunch was stilted and awkward. The meal was wonderfully prepared, but everyone at the table seemed almost afraid to speak. Polly, for one, was keeping her promise and not speaking a word to Digory. He was seated at her left, and on her other side, at the head of the table, was Mr. Kirke. Mrs. Kirke and Uncle Andrew sat across from her.

A few minutes into the meal, Polly reached for the butter and then noticed it was near Digory. "Mrs. Kirke," she said in a clear voice, very pointedly not looking at Digory, "could you pass the butter?"

Mrs. Kirke hesitated, glanced down at the butter and said, "Digory, please pass the butter to Polly."

Digory slid it over to her, not even making eye contact.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kirke," Polly said primly. Mr. Kirke arched an eyebrow while Uncle Andrew cackled, and Polly cringed and cast an apologetic smile to the guests, hoping she hadn't overstepped the boundaries.

"So, Polly," Mrs. Kirke said, changing the subject. "Let me get everything straight. You'll be heading back to your home in a few days, and you'll leave me with a sample of your writing to show to the writing professor I know. When I receive his reply, I'll send you a letter with his response. If he would like to meet you or see more of your work, then you'll be coming back to stay with us, right?"

"Yes," Polly said, twisting her fork around her mashed potatoes. "And if he's not interested, then…well, I'll just hang around at home and try to look for a job elsewhere."

Mrs. Kirke kept her face stoic, though she did not want to think of the possibility. Polly couldn't stay away permanently, leaving such an angry gap between her and Digory. She restrained a sigh. Playing matchmaker wasn't what she would've chosen, but someone had to step up and repair the wound between the two old friends.

Meanwhile, Digory was ignoring Polly completely and refusing to participate in the conversation. He was glad Polly seemed to resent him now. They might have been friends once, but that was now over. He didn't need a silly daydreaming girl poking her head over his shoulder, eager to take part in whatever was happening, whether it be a treasure hunt deep back in the backyard or a fairytale romance amidst the lilies and roses of the garden.

The time for fun and play had passed. He wasn't a little boy anymore, satisfied to explore the woods or make mud balls. Neither was he an easily-swayed teen, whirled away by a spur-of-the-moment kiss. He was confident and mature, ready to step into college life.

There was no need for Polly Plummer anymore.

Mrs. Kirke wandered into the library late that evening. As usual, Digory was sitting there poring over some book. She could nearly always find him in the library, now. "What are you doing so late?" she asked, troubled by the serious look in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. "You'll never be able to absorb information if you're too tired to stay awake."

"I'm not studying," he said wearily. "I've been trying to find time all day to go over these." He waved a hand at the stack of papers on the table. "Entries and guidelines, even news articles. I've collected up nearly everything college-related."

"Oh? And where do you intend to apply?"

"Harvard, the college in the city, a few hours away by horseback."

"Then you could stay at home during the weekends." Mrs. Kirke smiled. "A city-dweller during the week days, then back to simple country life for the weekends." Secretly she was thrilled. If Polly ended up staying with them, perhaps this would mean she and Digory would mingle more.

"Of course. I'll always love this big old house." He yawned and passed a hand over his temples right as the old grandfather clock in the hall chimed midnight.

"See! Off to bed with you." Mrs. Kirke crossed her arms, trying to look stern. "Everyone else has already retired. I won't have you losing sleep just when you're trying to get into college." She turned to go, her robe swinging behind her. She'd only taken a few steps when Digory spoke up.

"Mother, do you really think Harvard is the best place for me to go?"

She turned to see his haggard features. "Of course, dear! I think it will be perfect. It's close to home and you'll be exposed to two different lifestyles during your time there. City life, country life. What more do you want?"

"Nothing, it's just…should I aim higher? Should I go further?" He shook his head. "I want to know what other colleges are like."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I've made a list of colleges I'd like to visit over the next couple months." Seeing her face drop, he quickly added, "Don't worry, none of them are more than a day or two's travel, and I'll even pay the expenses for me and Father. I just want to see these places for myself and then try to make a decision."

"If that's what you think best, Digory, though I'm sure your father will pitch in money-wise." But he hadn't guessed the real reason for her quiet disappointment. Already Mrs. Kirke's heart was sinking faster than a damaged ship. Digory could be gone for well over a month! Why, surely he would miss out on Polly's departure in a few days when she was fully well! Her plans were falling apart at the quick tug of a string.

It was with a heavy heart that the well-meaning woman stumbled up to her bedroom and slept fitfully.

Polly was packing her items the next day when Mrs. Kirke, tired from a short amount of sleep, checked in on the teenaged girl. "Packing already!" she exclaimed. "But Polly, surely you won't leave for another couple days? I know you feel much better, but I wouldn't want to send you off when there's still a chance of your being sick."

Polly shrugged and plopped down on the bed to fold one of her sweaters. "I'm going to try to get a ticket for the afternoon train tomorrow. Please don't talk me out of it."

"I'm going to miss you," Mrs. Kirke said softly. Not because she wanted Polly and Digory to be together, but because she honestly would miss the girl, what with her sense of humor and sarcasm and the girlish toss of her head. She'd grown to love her like a daughter.

"I know, but Digory's here and I just can't stand it. I feel so useless when he spends all his time studying and planning. I'm not insulting you, Mrs. Kirke, because you've been ever so dear to me, but I must get home."

Mrs. Kirke drew the girl close and kissed the top of her head. "Do what you think is best." Pulling away, she raised an eyebrow. "Did you know that Digory will be leaving too, in a few days? He's planning to go visit various colleges."

"No, I didn't know." Polly continued packing. "But it won't stop me, by the way. I think I'm just rather lonely and homesick."

"I wasn't trying to stop you, dear." Mrs. Kirke sat and watched Polly fold her clothes for the next few minutes before getting up and leaving the room. Soon this big old country house would be empty.

And she wasn't going to waste all that time on her hands. No, she was going straight to the professor to see what he thought of Polly's writing. And she would be able to get Polly back in no time.

**Thanks for reading and please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hope you enjoy.**

Professor Barnes took off his glasses. "She shows excellent promise."

"You think so?" Mrs. Kirke asked in delight. She felt her heartbeat quicken. Polly had left five days ago to go back to her family and home, and Digory and Mr. Kirke had departed two days ago to check out the colleges Digory was interested in. It was only now that Mrs. Kirke had found time to take a breather and visit her friend, Professor Barnes, with a sample of Polly's work.

"Most definitely." Professor Barnes leaned back in his chair. "Did you notice how Miss Plummer writes with a certain type of energy? For example, the characters in this passage of writing were very outspoken, and yet painted in a realistic manner. And her descriptions are perfect: not too much flowery prose, but enough to let you imagine the setting."

Mrs. Kirke couldn't stop the grin on her face. "I did notice. I think she's very talented at making words leap off the page. The story just seems so––so real."

The professor pointed a finger. "Exactly! And that's what we're looking for at this college. Not writers who write just to please their teachers or earn money, but writers who write from the heart."

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot, you teach at one of the colleges in the city, don't you?" Mrs. Kirke sat up straighter, taking a quick glance about the room. She had gone straight to Professor Barnes's house, since she was good friends with Mrs. Barnes and knew the family quite well. She'd then been escorted to the professor's study so he could thoroughly inspect Polly's piece of work.

"Yes ma'am. I––"

He was interrupted by the study door opening. "Honey, you have a meeting at Mr. Tyler's in half an hour. What time do you need to leave?"

Professor Barnes shot to his feet. "Good grief! I hadn't realized the time. I need to get going. Thank you, Lissa, for reminding me." He began sorting papers from his desk and stuffing them into a briefcase.

Mrs. Kirke smiled at Melissa Barnes, the professor's wife, who had interrupted. "How are you doing, Melissa? I've missed talking to you."

Melissa's face lit up. "As have I. I'm sorry my husband has to leave right away, but why don't you stay and visit for a bit? I'll have Eliza bring up some tea, and we can sit and talk in the parlor like old times."

Professor Barnes silenced them with a lifted hand. "You ladies go right ahead and do that, but first, Mrs. Kirke" he paused from packing his briefcase and instead fiddled with some papers on his desk "I'll jot down Miss Plummer's address. Once I get home I will send her a letter asking if she would be interested in applying to one of our colleges up here. Many women are accepted into classes involving writing there, and I believe she has a chance to make herself a career."

Mrs. Kirke's eyes shone. "I can't thank you enough. That's just what Polly needs. There are no colleges near her home that she's interested in, and she really needs a goal that she can reach for."

With her heart happy, Mrs. Kirke headed off with Mrs. Barnes for a pleasant afternoon of tea and chatting.

Meanwhile, Polly was not having the greatest of times. She was in her room, completely bored with her life. "I thought that coming back home would make me feel better," she told herself with a sigh. "I thought if I could just be in my good old familiar room, I'd forget all the memories of Digory and be able to move on with life."

Restlessly she strode towards the window. She'd awoken a few hours ago this morning to the sound of pouring rain. Now, as the clock chimed ten o' clock, the sky was still an overcast gray, even though the rain had stopped a while ago. Polly slid the latch on her window and pushed it open, leaning outside. She could still smell the scent of rain in the air. She stuck her hand out. It was humid. Thunder rumbled, and she jerked her hand back inside, closing the window just in time as an onslaught of rain tumbled down.

"I guess things will never be the way they were." She rubbed her hands together and pounced onto her bed. It had been over a week now that she'd been home, but she didn't seem to enjoy hanging out with the few friends that she had, and nothing at home interested her.

"All part of growing up, dear."

Polly jumped, her canopy of hair draped across her face. She pushed it out of the way with the back of her hand to stare at her mother. "I didn't hear you come in."

"A letter came in the mail for you. Here it is. I don't recognize the address." Her mother tossed it onto her bedspread.

Polly couldn't suppress the curiosity flickering across her face. Her mum would have recognized if it had been from Mrs. Kirke or, heaven forbid, Digory. So who was it? There wasn't anyone else she knew. She slit the seal open and unfolded the letter.

"What is it?" her mother demanded, watching the various expressions flash across her daughter's face.

Polly looked up, torn between looking troubled and joyous. "You remember that short story I told you about? That I gave to Mrs. Kirke, so she could show it to her professor friend?"

"Yes…"

The teenage girl held up the letter and waved it. "Well, it looks like he read it and liked it pretty well, because he's sent me a personal letter and asked me to apply to the college he teaches at––a good college with many famous professors––and he thinks I won't have any problem being admitted."

There was a long minute while Mrs. Plummer processed all of this, her eyes slowly lighting up. After another shocked pause, she squealed and threw her arms around her daughter. "Oh, honey! You'll go, won't you? Of course you will! Sweetie, look at this! How lucky you are! This is your best chance at becoming a writer! Ooh, I always knew you would be famous!"

When Polly could speak again after being smothered by hugs and kisses, she said, "Mum, I'm not even sure that I'll go there. I need time to think about this. And what do you mean, this is my best chance of becoming a writer? I _am _a writer. I'm just not published yet." These last few sentences were spouted rather tenaciously.

Mrs. Plummer cringed. Polly had always been touchy whenever someone referred to her becoming a writer. "Do remember, I'm not trying to upset you. I can't help it if I strike a nerve."

"Mu-um! I'm not being particularly stubborn. All writers have a sore point there. Anyone who's written a book is a writer––no question. We _are _writers, even if we remain unpublished all our lives and our names are never echoed reverently through the halls of bookstores. The world just doesn't understand us." Polly tossed her mane of wild curls.

"Ahh, I see." Mrs. Plummer nodded as sagaciously as possible. Best not to press any points with Polly when she was in one of her high-and-mighty moods. The girl had been dealing with some issues lately, she'd give her that. She just needed to learn to face what was going on and start acting more mature.

Hopefully she'd brighten up soon. Something must have happened to disturb her when she was at the Kirkes. Could it have been the long amount of time she was incapacitated during her illness?

Well, now wasn't the time to ask. Mrs. Plummer hugged her daughter, told her to seriously consider the amazing offer she'd just been made, and left.

Polly spent the rest of the evening staring at the letter and doing some deep thinking.

"I can't believe this! We've been to five of the most famous and well-known colleges in London, and none of them 'really suited your taste'?"

"Father," Digory said helplessly, tightening his lips. "I'm sorry. None of them seem right for me."

Mr. Kirke sighed and put his head back against the bench. "Fine. The train to Birmingham should be here in a few minutes. I hope you're able to find an acceptable college soon. We've been on the road for a week and a half now, and this weather is madness."

Digory held out his hands, feeling a few moist drops collect in his palm. "You're right. Summer isn't the time for so much rain."

Mr. Kirke sighed again and fanned his face as the distant chug of the train sounded in the air. "Rain coming down one moment and gone the next. You never know what to expect."

"Yeah." But Digory's mind was on other things. His father was right. He hadn't liked any of the colleges they'd taken tours of. It was odd. They _were _some of the finest colleges in England, and he should have been thrilled to have the chance to learn at one of them. So what exactly was it that he wanted?

Well, he had better find something soon. As he stood and lifted his suitcase, ready to board the approaching train, the rain started coming down harder. By the time he and his father boarded the train they were soaked to the skin. Digory took a seat and pulled out his list of colleges that he wanted to check out, his father grumbling the whole time.

He crossed off the five that they'd seen this week. Eight more to go.

Surely he'd find whatever it was he was searching for at one of these colleges. One could only hope.

**Not really sure if I like the ending to this chapter, but it's the best I could come up with. :) I'm guessing there'll be about two more chapters before it's complete. Leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm almost at the ending; one more chapter after this. Thanks to one of my reviewers for pointing out that in chapter four, Digory asked his mother about going to the nearby college in the city. I'd randomly slipped "Harvard" in as the name of the college, just until I could come up with a different name, and when I posted the chapter I completely forget to edit out the "Harvard" and change it to "Davidson," the different name I ended up choosing. So please just pretend that I had put "Davidson," and thanks for reading, lol! :)**

The weeks crawled by for Mrs. Kirke. With her husband and son gone and Polly at home, the huge country estate was lonely with nothing to listen to but Uncle Andrew's prattling. Slowly the drizzly summer months passed from June to July to August. Then the end of August was nearing. Digory was still traveling with his father. She hated the silence and spent a good portion of her time writing letters to her family and friends or visiting Melissa Barnes, the good professor's wife.

For Polly the days seemed to whiz by, and with each new dawn was another painful reminder that she was one day closer to making a decision. Would she accept and go to this Davidson College, so well-known and yet seemingly a planet away from home? Apparently this college was close enough that she could rent an apartment in the city for the weekdays and spent the weekends with the Kirkes. But would this mean she saw Digory? From Mrs. Kirke's letters it appeared that Digory would be going to some other more well-to-do uppity college and hopefully far away from his home. By the last week of August, she made her decision. This was the best chance at being published that she would get. So she sent in her application.

As for Digory, the weeks would inch by at times and at others seem to fly by. Some of the colleges he visited sparked an interest in him, others were not the type he was looking for. But none were _right_. He hated not having an answer. He truly loved studying and wanted with all his heart to make a career as a professor, but he just couldn't find the right college. This was a frustrating experience for him. In school there was always an answer, always a solution. Here, there was only a void of nothingness.

"You must decide, Digory," his father said to him as the end of August approached. "For heaven's sake, you should already be packing for your first semester! I can't tolerate this, son. You have to choose, and it must be now."

"Why is life so full of decisions?" Digory grumbled. "Why can't it be straightforward? Here's what you have to do, this is what must be done, so just go and do it. Simple."

"_What you have to do_," Mr. Kirke echoed, "is pick a college! So pick!"

Digory sighed. This was what his entire fate was resting on. "I honestly don't know."

"You can't waste your life following a silly dream. I know from experience. You must work to earn your keep and make a living. You'll understand someday."

"Davidson College," Digory said in a rushed breath, then groaned and sighed. "I just don't know. I guess I'll give it a try."

Mr. Kirke stared at him in astonishment. "Out of all these ridiculously famous colleges that you had a _chance _to attend––out of all the wild places and important cities we've visited––you just decide you'll settle for second-rate at a school near our house?" He was unabashedly amazed.

Digory held up his hands. "Please, don't bother me about it. I need to process this and figure out what I need to do. But lastly, it's not second-rate. It is a very nice college with learned professors. I think it's just what I need, Father."

"Your choice, Digory, not mine. Tragically, however, the majority of the cost is being paid by me, so I expect good grades and no complaining. If you wanted a better college, you had your chance. That's all I'm asking." His narrow eyes held his son's.

Digory met his gaze evenly and nodded. "I will do as you command."

Mr. Kirke slumped for just a second. "I don't want to command you. I want you to do this out of respect, out of your own free will."

"Then I will do as you wish. I'm a lucky man," Digory reminded. "Most blokes don't have fathers who are willing to follow them across the world in a crazy attempt to satisfy a curiosity. Or mothers who encourage and uplift, instead of scolding and screeching and whining about housework."

The older man's lips quirked in a sideways smile. "You've learned diplomacy well, I'll give you that."

Digory brushed him off, though he couldn't hide his grin. His old father was starting to come back alive again. "Yes, it is nice to be skilled in wheedling and flattery, isn't it? Makes it easy to get my own way."

Mr. Kirke clapped his son on the shoulder. "I _am _your father, and don't you forget it."

The rest of that afternoon was more easygoing and relaxed than Digory had felt on his journey.

Polly was spending her time packing for college. The days slipped through her fingers, and by the time she had been accepted to the Davidson College she only had a short week to pack. Already it was the last day of August. Her mother rushed into the room, fanning her face.

"Open your window for heaven's sake, would you Poll? This is the hottest summer we've had in years."

"It's just the humidity," Polly warned, but she complied and slid the window open. "If it even hints at rain, I'm closing this thing."

Already Mrs. Plummer had forgotten the heat. She stared in shock at Polly's suitcase. "Dear, you're going to need more sweaters and skirts than that! And certainly a nicer pair of shoes."

"You forget that they have a special uniform for me to wear, Mum, that goes with the dress code. I'll be fine. And I don't need any more shoes. I have three pairs already, and they're extremely heavy. I'll barely be able to lift my suitcase."

Mrs. Plummer ran a hand through her hair, frizzy and frazzled from the heat. Damp curls clung to her forehead. Polly was thankful she'd inherited her father's straight brown locks that only curled slightly at the tips.

"What about scarves and jackets? Perhaps a fashionable dress or two? You will have time for social life too, you know. What if you find a boy, go on a date, and you don't have anything nice to wear?"

Polly visibly tightened. She knew it was visible from the way her mother's vein on her forehead started throbbing. They'd had this talk before. "I won't be going out with any guy, thank you very much. You know that. There is currently an empty space in my love life, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"I don't get this," Mrs. Plummer said in frustration. "Something must have happened to make you so upset. What was it?"

"Absolutely nothing. Only that I changed my way of thinking, that's all." Polly straightened. She would never give away a word. Besides, it was true. She never even thought about Digory anymore. Sure, his face popped up in her head about three dozen times a day, but she always pushed it away and started humming a song or reading a book, so, no, she didn't think about him one bit.

Mrs. Plummer pulled out a green velvet gown that Polly had worn once to a friend's wedding. Gently, even tenderly, she folded it and slipped it under a pair of stocking in her suitcase. "You'll thank me someday."

Mrs. Kirke paced the chocolaty brown carpet in the library. She'd just received two letters, one from Digory and one from Polly. Digory's had stated that he was going to attend Davidson College and could she please talk to the professors there about getting him swiftly enrolled. He promised to be back in half a week's time.

Polly's had explained that while she had been going to take the train to arrive a few days before first semester started, her mother had been in an automobile accident. Though she wasn't severely injured, Polly wished to stay by her mother's side for another couple days. She assured Mrs. Kirke that she would still arrive in the nick of time for classes to start.

"The poor children," Mrs. Kirke murmured, a half-smile playing on her lips. "I don't think they even realize that they're both going to the same college. This is turning out perfectly."

Well, no more time to rejoice. She had a busy day ahead of her. The lady went straight to Professor Barnes's to ask about her son being accepted to Davidson College. The professor was a bit hesitant at first, but he agreed that even though it was late to enroll, he would talk with the headmaster and see if they couldn't tweak the rules just this once.

Next day, she received word that Digory was accepted to Davidson College. First semester started in three days.

A telegraph came from Polly. No letters, since they probably wouldn't even arrive on time. Her mum was apparently still incapacitated and Polly didn't want to leave her side. However, the telegraph made it clear that Polly would be at the countryside as soon as possible. Or rather, city. She was staying at an apartment near the college during the weekdays.

Digory and Mr. Kirke's train ride had been cancelled, she discovered, due to engine trouble. The closest one was early next morning.

By then, it was the day before first semester.

Neither her son nor Polly had come.

"I made it, I made it, I made it." Polly blew a sigh through her lips, checking the clock on the wall. It was eight o'clock in the morning and her first class at Davidson College was about to start. She'd gotten here at nearly midnight last night, after finally finding a train to catch. She'd already been sent the key to her apartment and had barely unpacked at all, instead tumbling right into bed, wrinkled clothes and all. She hadn't even had time to contact poor Mrs. Kirke. The lady must be a wreck of nerves.

Now it was time for her first class. The arts of writing. She smiled. A perfect way to start the day. If she could just stop thinking about her mother's sprained knee. _Mum will get better. The doctor thinks it will heal quickly. Oh, but I was so frightened when she was in the accident. It was right after I'd spoken harshly to her about wearing that dress. _

Meanwhile, Digory was struggling to stay calm as he read through his class schedule and tried to find his way to first class. Something with writing, or language, or literature. He'd just glanced at it, hadn't even taken it in fully. His head screamed for sleep, as he and his father had caught the earliest train this morning. They'd arrived at the station not twenty minutes ago and his father had gone wild getting him to the college on time.

Digory finally found the classroom. The bell had just rung. He'd made it. Good. Deep, calming breaths. His hand found the door handle and he cracked it open, just in time to catch a man's voice introducing a new classmate.

"––anyway, Miss Plummer, I'd just like to welcome you to class. You have an assigned seat in the third row."

A feeling of shock lodged itself in Digory's throat. Unconscious of his actions, he leaned against the door to hear better. Had the professor just said _Miss Plummer?_

Polly Plummer?

It couldn't be.

His mother would have mentioned it to him. Oh, wait, she wouldn't have! He gritted his teeth, lost in his thoughts, and was therefore still unaware that he'd been pressing close up against the door when it pushed open, scraping against the floor, and he fell flat on his face in front of his classmates, namely the haughty Polly Plummer.

What a way to make an impression on his first day.

There was a collective gasp from the students, the loudest ones ringing from Polly herself. "What––" he heard her say in disgust. She plowed on, oblivious to the stares she was receiving. "What is _he _doing here?"

The teacher, who just happened to be Professor Barnes, reached a sympathetic hand down to Digory and helped him to his feet. "Digory Kirke! I'm so glad to see you. It's been quite a few years, I suppose. What's all this about, then?"

Digory wiped his eyes, dry and unbelieving, rubbing at raw skin as if to double-check what he was seeing. "Polly? Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question!" she shouted, poking a harsh finger against his chest. "Where did you spring from, hm? Why did no one tell me you were here?"

"Why didn't anyone tell me _you _were here?" he asked through clenched teeth. "Why do you pop up wherever I go? I just can't get rid of you. Don't know when to take a hint, do you?"

"Ugh!" Polly exclaimed, feeling tears stinging the back of her eyes. She couldn't let them leak out, not now of all times. She'd bottled them up all summer, washing her mind of any negative thoughts and thinking and focusing only on her writing. "You little beast! I––I hate you!"

"Miss Plummer!" Professor Barnes admonished. The class however seemed highly entertained, eyes glued to the angry couple facing each other off. After all, how often did you get to see a fight break out during the first few minutes of a brand-new college semester?

"Good!" Digory spat out tightly. "Because I hate you too. I never liked you. I don't know what made you think that! You're clueless and annoying and arrogant and stubborn!"

Polly let out a cry of pent-up rage, or maybe it was hurt. She stumbled from the room, in tears and feeling a tiny piece of her heart break away once again. Where could she seek privacy? She didn't need people trying to comfort her right now or figure out what was wrong.

Meanwhile Digory remained in the classroom, hands fisted into balls, aware that he had just been ranting on like a toddler and not at all like a studious, sophisticated college student. He'd lost his chance for everything now.

Because there was no going back from what had just happened.

**I realize this chapter is longer than usual; I wanted to be able to get everything in and then wrap up in the final chapter. Thanks for reading, please review. I would love feedback. =)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Final chapter! So glad I've finished this fanfic. It's been fun working on it, but it's been hard to squeeze it in while trying to make time for my other writing activities.**

Polly ran. It was the only thing she could think of to do. She ran into the girls' bathroom and stood in front of the sink, literally gasping for air and clutching at her hair in distress. She felt the tears begin to roll down her cheeks, tears that were a mixture of a sharp hurt and anger.

She checked the rest of the stalls. There was no one else in the room, probably because classes had started only a few minutes ago and everyone was sitting behind their desk. Everyone except her. She sniffled, which started another torrent of tears.

After roughly washing her face with water from the sink, she let out a ragged sigh and let herself lean against the wall, eyeing with distaste her red-eyed reflection in the mirror. Even rinsing her face hadn't helped much.

Well, that was it. She'd had a good cry now. What else was there to do? She couldn't face the rest of her class now. Ha. No, she'd probably be kicked out for her behavior.

And Digory. How dare he show his face…no. Polly sighed again, this time more calmly, and smoothed her hair. No, she had to face it. She was still in love with him. Not even a near summer apart from him had stopped that.

_Being a teenager is _so _complicated. _Why couldn't it be like when they were young, and it was just an easy, trusting friendship? She thought about Narnia. She'd been too busy to think of their childhood adventure so many years ago. She still longed to escape the real world and live in her fantasy. Narnia, her special place. Reality might be a nice place, but she would much rather live in Narnia. To her, Narnia was realer than any other world could be.

"But you will not return there for many years," a deep voice said.

Polly didn't gasp. Didn't run. She scrunched up her face briefly in surprise and then fiddled with her skirt, offering an unsure curtsy. "Aslan."

His face was there, in the reflection of the mirror. The Lion's peaceful face, staring at her with his round, unblinking eyes. "You will not return to Narnia any time soon, Polly Plummer. You have a place here on Earth, things to get done in this world."

"But I can't let go," Polly said softly. She crossed her arms. This wasn't a wishful dream or hallucination. No, Aslan was there, in the bathroom mirror, and she had to accept it. "I can't make myself happy."

"Places and possessions will not make you happy," Aslan said simply. "What did you expect, child? Did you never consider extending a hand to ask for forgiveness? For acceptance?"

"It wouldn't have worked," Polly muttered, though it seemed a feeble excuse now.

"Try it. If you give yourself a chance, you might find peace. Digory is dealing with tough decisions as well. Why not go through these trials together, hand in hand?"

"I'll try," Polly said frankly. "You've never been wrong, Aslan."

"That is all I ask. Have faith, child. Don't forget Narnia, but let yourself ease into this world––where you belong. Good-bye, Polly." The Lion's face vanished, leaving a smooth glassy reflection.

She crumpled up her skirt in her fist. She had to get outside, now, and feel some fresh air. Then she would attempt to return and apologize for her mistakes. But right now, she just needed to feel the cool brush of air on her cheek and know she was forgiven.

Digory was still standing in the classroom.

"I think," Professor Barnes said, "that perhaps you'd better step outside, cool down, and work things out with this acquaintance of yours. We don't let such disturbances go by lightly, Mr. Kirke, and you will have to account for your behavior. But that can wait till later. Go now and do what you must."

Digory shot him a look that rang with both apology and gratefulness. So it was that a few seconds later he stepped out of the classroom, out of the burning stare of the other students, and looked around the empty hallway.

Aslan was there, on the wall.

He rubbed his eyes. No way. He was seeing things. For once all this mad studying into the night and sleepless travel journeys had caught up with him, and his imagination was running wild.

"But a vivid imagination is more preferred than a dull brain tied down with facts, is it not?" the Lion said in his rich voice.

Digory closed his eyes hard for a second, pinched himself, then opened up. Aslan was still there, his face peering out of the wall, eyes gravely solemn and yet with a sparkle of laughter flickering though them. "My King," Digory finally said with all the respect he could muster, and bent forward on his knee.

"Stand, young warrior," Aslan said gently.

"I'm not a warrior, Aslan. You know that. I'm just a scholar with high dreams."

"Yet even that profession will demand a fight from you, though it may be mental rather than physical. You are facing opposition, after all. You must stand firm in a world of students and set your eyes on the most important goal."

"The goal being…?"

"Well, you are required to choose, Son of Adam. Polly or a career? The greatest treasure you could ever care for, or making a reputation and building up a fine job for yourself?"

"I can't make that decision!"

"I think you already know the answer, Digory. You must swallow your pride and speak plainly with her. You know what must be done."

"Will I ever see you again?" Digory asked in a small voice.

"Not in this world. All I ask is that you never change the noble ways that you acted upon in Narnia."

"I have to shine a light in a world of evil?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. But you must not forget that, however noble and pure your deeds may be, it is the faith that you so strongly believe in that matters most."

"I won't forget." His voice was barely a whisper. Aslan held his eyes for a moment longer and then disappeared.

Digory collapsed against the wall. He had to find Polly. Now. Why had he been so blind before?

Where would she have gone? Outside, no doubt. He rushed off in the direction of the closest exit.

Polly twirled a stray dandelion stem between her fingers, reaching forward and, with the lightest breath she could muster, blowing away the little flower until the dandelion dust was scattered on the wind. She heard footsteps behind her and quickly straightened up, smoothing her skirt. Professor Barnes would probably be there, asking her to calm down and return to class. She bit her bottom lip. Mother would be so disappointed when she heard of her outburst.

"Polly?"

Oh no. It was Digory. She felt her cheeks begin to flame.

"Look, I wanted to apologize," Digory continued. "I'd been beastly to you over this past summer and I haven't even given you a chance at friendship. It was awfully immature and I don't know why I was acting like such an idiot. Can you forgive me?"

"You've seen Aslan," Polly breathed. She could tell by the light in his face.

"Well, yes. And I'm assuming you have?"

"Ye––yes. He came and spoke to me. And I do forgive you, Digory, and I'm sorry too, I was so silly to think that you might fancy me, and even after that I tried to pretend you didn't mean anything to me, but really I was just wishing we could be friends like we were when we were children, and I know I seriously messed things up and I swear I had no idea you were going to college here––"

Digory held up a hand. "You're rambling, Polly."

"Sorry."

"It's fine." His fingers twitched. "See, the thing is, I forgive you too of course, so…what now? Do we go back to being friends?"

Polly swallowed. "I'd like that."

"Or…something more?"

Polly tried to keep the smile off her face. "I'd like that too. But I thought you didn't like me in that way…?"

"But I do. Admire you, I mean, Polly. Before, when I was angry at you, I was acting all pompous, and do you know what? I think I was jealous of my mother's attention to you. The way she kept trying to bring us closer together. And that just made me more determined to stay apart from you, to prove that I didn't need to hold your hand through everything that I did."

Polly grinned slowly, cocking her head. "So all of this means that, you like me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do," Digory said, his voice squeaking slightly towards the end. "I can't promise to pour all my attention on you––after all, I take this professor thing very seriously and I want to get good grades––but I think it'll be quite fun, going to the same college together, and––"

"Now you're the one rambling."

"Sorry. Sorry. Yeah, I'll just shut up now."

All was quiet for a moment, with Polly smiling tentatively as the breeze rippled through her hair, and Digory shifting nervously on his feet. Then he leaned forward and kissed her softly.

Just as he pulled away, a few raindrops dropped to the ground, and within seconds the sudden rainstorm poured forth with the heavy sound of rain. They were both soaked and laughing at the sight of each other.

"Look," said Polly. "Look, it's raining and the sun is out. I wonder if there's a rainbow?"

"There. There, see?" Digory pointed with his right hand, his left almost unconsciously slipping into Polly's. "Right above those trees."

"It's a beautiful rainbow," Polly whispered. "Funny. All those times it's rained this summer, and this is the first time I've seen a rainbow."

The clouds parted, revealing the rainbow even more, and Polly tightened her hold on Digory's hand and slid closer to him, tossing her damp hair over her shoulder and relishing the feel of raindrops on her face and the sweet scent of rain in the air. _For once, _she thought, _I can just be free and let myself be happy._

The next week, Mrs. Kirke sat in her chair smiling over the perfectness of it all. Digory and Polly were back together. Even now they were out on their first date, at some concert. Polly had looked so girlishly sweet in her green velvet dress, and Digory had been smiling nonstop. She hadn't seen either of the two so happy in months.

On that first day at college, the two friends had gone back up to Professor Barnes and spoken to him in private, explaining their disagreement and what had transpired. Once he found out that everything was resolved and all matters had been settled, he escorted them back into class. So far Digory was learning a lot of information, and Polly was getting helpful advice on her writing.

So. Everything had worked out right.

Perhaps she shouldn't have interfered in the first place. Perhaps she should have let the children work things out themselves. But, after all, who else would have been there to prod them through the tough times?

No, she certainly hadn't been born to be a matchmaker. But she'd done what she had done, and all was in the past now and over. Digory and Polly were a couple now.

Well. Life was good, right now at least. She looked out the window at the shining sun, and knew that there was a chance for Digory and Polly to have a future together.

And so it was that Digory and Polly learned the power of friendship in one short summer, and that was how they came to realize their love for one another.

**Okay, so seriously. Leave. A. Review. I have two very good reasons for you to do so. One, this is the last chapter, so I would reaaally like to know what you thought of this fanfic on a whole, or if it didn't really catch your interest, or what I should have changed, or whatever. Two, it's my birthdaaay! =D So getting a review would be almost as good as a birthday present…or a slice of chocolate cake with a mound of icing.**

**So, yeah. Click the little review button and tell me your thoughts. :) I hope no one acted too out of character and that the story flowed pretty well. Anywaaay…I had fun writing this and thanks a ton to everyone for reading it.**


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